The Accident
by Elly m
Summary: Jess and Rob are involved in an accident, but all is not as it seems. Set shortly after the end of 'Sanctuary' probably the following January
1. The Accident

Disclaimer: Jess, Rob and the motorcycle belong to Meg Cabot and various publishers around the world.

Chapter one.

Jess's POV

As I waited the snow began to fall and I started to regret telling Ruth that I didn't need her to wait with me. I stamped my feet thinking about Rob. His eyes…his shoulders…his…oops, where was I? Oh yes, Rob and his apparent inability to make it to the student parking lot before the end of school. He was supposed to be picking me up so we could go back to his, but he was running late. Again.

Finally he dew up beside me . "You're late." Okay so it was a bit harsh, but it was _freezing _out here.

He pulled off his helmet and looked at me, that familiar smile flickering at the back of his gorgeous eyes. "You may not have noticed Mastriani, but it's **snowing**. And I'm taking you back to your house then going home and bringing the truck back to pick you up." I think I started to protest but it's hard to be sure since he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me forward to kiss me hard and then dropped the spare helmet onto my head before I could regain the power of speech.

As he did so I heard him murmur "I've been waiting all day for that." Glad to know I wasn't the only one.

As we rode through town, well under the speed limit for a change I began to see why he was leaving me in town. The streets here were bad enough, so who knew what the back roads on the way to Rob's would be like.

As we started down the hill leading to my street I peered over Rob's shoulder at the car smoothed snow and panicked. My psychic powers really do usually extend only to recovering missing children but I was definitely getting bad vibes off of this hill. That was my first mistake. Ignoring the vibes, I mean. As we reached a side street half way down a van roared out and Rob slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting it. The wheels locked but the bike spun on the flattened snow and we were both thrown clear of the bike.

After that everything became hazy, a series of disjointed feelings, sounds and images. Rob's voice gasping out a panicky "Jess;" the cold snow under my body; the sound of a wailing siren; a man in a paramedics uniform leaning over me , his lips moving noiselessly; pain in my leg; the feel of a needle sliding into my arm. Blackness.

Please Review!

A/N: This is going to be a multi chapter story with chapters alternating between Jess's POV and third person narrative of events through the other character's eyes.


	2. The Hospital

Disclaimer: Jess, Rob and the motorcycle belong to Meg Cabot and various publishers around the world.

Chapter two: the hospital

The hospital buzzed with noise and activity as the Mastrianis and Mary Wilkins rushed into the waiting area. Their frantic questions were met with anguished glances from the young nurse until a doctor came to her rescue. Murmuring quietly to the three distraught parents he pushed them back into the uncomfortable plastic chairs synonymous with public waiting areas across the globe and moved away, leaving them to wait.

And wait they did, until two hours later when a different doctor, his face creased with fatigue, hurried in, whispered to the receptionist and then, at a more sedate pace, moved towards the pathetic huddle.

"Mrs Wilkins?" his voice was apologetic. "I'm Rob's doctor. I imagine the police officer told you what happened?" Silently she nodded, willing him to get to the point, to tell her whether she still had her baby boy. In a daze she listened with half an ear as the man no boy, he couldn't be more than a few years older than Rob, perhaps the same age as her oldest niece, as he described, with rather too much relish for her liking, the extent of her little boy's injuries. And then those words she had been dreading "I'm sorry, Mrs Wilkins, we did everything we could, but Rob didn't pull through."

Mary Wilkins' next actions would have surprised anyone with only a basic understanding of human psychology. She didn't start screaming, or hit the doctor or even bust into hysterical tears. Instead she said "oh" in a very quiet voice and sat back down.

A mere five minutes later it was the Mastriani's turn to have their family shattered as they too were given the dreaded "sorry," this time by the same doctor who had spoken to them earlier. In sharp contrast to Mary Wilkins, Antonia Mastriani did everything that an outsider would have expected, short of beating someone to a bloody pulp, although that probably had more to do with her lack of strength than with any hatred of violence.

Just about holding back tears of his own Joe Mastriani just about managed to stammer out, on behalf of both families, "could we – could we see the bodies?" the doctor blanched and said awkwardly "it might be better to wait while we clean them up - everything was a bit of a mess." With these comforting words he hurried off like a rat to a hole, leaving some poor nurse to calm down Mrs Mastriani.

An hour later they were still waiting, both to say their goodbyes and for some answers about what exactly had happened to their children. None seemed forthcoming until, on a visit to the coffee machine, Joe bumped – quite literally – into special agent Jill Smith.

She looked surprised to see them and asked, with raised eyebrows, what Jess and Rob had done this time. "Rob crashed his bike. They were both killed." It was Mrs Wilkins, her first words since hearing of her son's death. Quickly Joe filled in the rest of the details, up to and including the disappearing doctor. Her face set in an expression of determined sorrow special agent Smith marched over to the receptionist. At first the woman seemed unwilling to cooperate with whatever was being demanded, but one flash of the FBI badge soon had more results than a thousand smiles. Not, however, that this seemed to be impressing the FBI woman. As the altercation became more heated another woman was called and she seemed to be coming up with the same disappointing results as her colleague.

Returning to the Mastrianis and Mrs Wilkins, special agent Smith looked puzzled. "Um…" she said, looking momentarily stupefied, "I'm not entirely sure how to put this, but according to their records, neither Jessica nor Robert has been admitted to the hospital for several months."


	3. The Room

A/N: I swear I fully intended to post this on Friday, after writing it in my study period, but real life in the form of homework interrupted slightly. When I got home I got some bad news about an old school friend and then I spent the whole weekend away on retreat, so sorry!

Disclaimer: Jess, Rob and the motorcycle belong to Meg Cabot and various publishers around the world.

Chapter three

You know that feeling you get when you wake up and you don't know where you are? Maybe you're in an unfamiliar bed or can't work out why you've been asleep. Yeah, that one, the feeling of who, what where, when, why. The one you recover from in about two minutes. Well, multiply that by about 6 million and you are beginning to approach my feelings on waking up. I knew straight away that this wasn't my own bed in my own room – I had no blanket for one thing. I also knew that it wasn't Ruth's room as I was in complete darkness and she always sleeps with a lamp on. Really there was nowhere else I ever slept, except Rob's, and I couldn't think why I might be there. Gingerly I reached out to either side. My left hand touched the floor beside the mattress – it was cold concrete. My right hand, meanwhile, collided with a warm body. I instantly froze, but the person didn't move. Slowly, carefully I moved my fingers across the person's chest and, realizing it was a man, up onto his face. As my digits brushed a familiar face I realized that it was Rob. Shit.

What had happened last night? Surely I hadn't slept with him? All I remembered was him picking me up late from school and announcing his decision not to take me all the way back to his. Then a sense of fear. We'd crashed. The memory filled my brain like ice and I jerked upright, no longer caring about the sleeper now I knew it was Rob.

We had crashed and a paramedic had given me something and now I was lying in a dark room on a mattress in a building that was definitely not a hospital. Oh shit. This was it. For ages Rob had been warning me that I was really going to upset someone and, clearly, I had. Big time.

I jumped up and paced the room. It was tiny – no more than ten feet by ten feet. There was a door (locked) in one wall and no windows, or at least none that I could reach. Disappointed at the apparent proficiency of our captor or captors I sank back down on to the mattress and felt, rather than saw, Rob struggle up to a sitting position and mutter, "ugh, what hit me?"

Yes, I know it was probably a rhetorical question but hey, I'd been sedated, kidnapped, locked in a dark room and was absolutely terrified. I wasn't thinking so I responded, somewhat acidly, "the ground."

"Jess?" he croaked, "where are we? 'Cos you know, I really don't think this is the hospital." I agreed and told him the results of my short walk, then thought for a moment.

"Hang on, what about that paramedic, then?" I asked, suddenly remembering my friend with the needle.

"I dunno" replied Rob, his voice still groggy with sleep, "but since we're locked in a dark room with a _really_ skanky mattress, I'm willing to bet he wasn't actually a paramedic."

"So…so do you think we've actually been kidnapped then?" I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

"Mastriani, we're locked u…" he began, trailing off as the part of his brain marked 'overprotective boyfriend' suddenly gave the rest of his mind a good kicking. "Come here," he finished, reaching out an arm to pull me close; with, it has to be said, some difficulty, since we were in pitch darkness.

Just as he said this we heard footsteps outside the room and then, as I scooted backwards into Rob's suddenly clutching embrace, a key was inserted into the lock and the door flew open. The light flooded in and Rob flung up an arm to protect his eyes as I turned my head into his broad shoulder. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden change I turned back to look at the doorway. I couldn't see the features of the man, who was very short, but his voice, when he spoke, sent chills through me. It was a voice I had thought to be safely locked up, along with its owner, in the maximum security wing of the state penitentiary.

"Hank, Ginger, good to see you again," said Jim Henderson.

A/N 2: I have realised that I may have completely confused some people with chapter two. If the plot so far is still unclear, e-mail me and I will explain slowly and carefully in words of less than two syllables.


	4. The Briefing

Disclaimer: Jess, Rob and the motorcycle belong to Meg Cabot and various publishers around the world.

A/N: In response to Suze's question about who called the Mastrianis and Mary Wilkins: "I imagine the police officer told you what happened?" – chapter 2. So the answer is (to the best of their knowledge) the police called… But more of that in this chapter.

Chapter four: The Briefing

"What do you mean, they haven't been admitted for several months?" screeched a somewhat hysterical Antonia Mastriani, while Mary Wilkins echoed "several months?" with a tinge of panic in her voice.

Joe Mastriani, meanwhile, although appearing calm on the outside, began babbling about doctors and policemen. As Special Agent Smith held up her hand for quiet her partner, Allan Johnson, came striding through the double doors cradling his bandaged right hand. Despite his apparent pain he immediately took charge of the situation, shouting down the families and turning to his colleague for an explanation.

As Jill recounted the story as she knew it to Allan his expression grew more and more concerned. As she explained about the hospital records he turned back around to speak to the receptionist. By this point the woman in charge of the emergency room had been paged about the fact that they were apparently missing two patients and came barreling through the doors to try and sort it out. With her help the Feds discovered that all patient's details were logged into the computer systems within an hour of arrival and that since their families had been called they must have been identified. Therefore there was only one explanation: the two had never been admitted.

"What about the doctors then?" demanded Special Agent Smith, who seemed to be taking their lack of progress somewhat personally. There was some conferring and consultation of staff rotas, the conclusion being that the only doctors on duty tonight were Dr Thompkins and Dr Levine. Having confirmed that it had not been either of these men that had treated the teenagers, Allan pulled Jill out of the family room they had been shown to and said, "right, you keep them calm, tell them we think the pair might have been kidnapped, I'll call Krantz."

Twenty minutes later the parents were being ushered in to a large conference room around which several FBI agents from the Department of Paranormal Investigations, including Dr krantz, were already seated.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Mastriani, Mrs. Wilkins," began Krantz. "I've heard the basic story from Special Agent Johnson. Could one of you please tell me exactly what happened?"

Joe Mastriani began. "We were all at Joe's. Mary was working the afternoon shift and Toni and I had to go in because several members of staff had called to say they couldn't make it. About half past three a policeman came in, which isn't particularly unusual – that's their shift change. But I didn't recognize him as one of our regulars and then he asked to see the three of us somewhere private. We went back to the office and he sat us down and he said, he said that Jess and Rob had been riding on Rob's bike and that a van had pulled out in front of them. That Rob had lost control of the bike and they had both been thrown clear. He told us that they were in hospital and took us to the emergency room in an unmarked car. It was dark blue but I didn't really register anything else about it. When we got there the woman at the desk didn't seem to know who we were talking about, but a doctor came out and told us that they were both in surgery. After that we had to wait for quite a while and … well I'm sure you know the whole story from then on.

Dr Krantz nodded and said "thank you" very quietly. "I can assure you that we will do everything possible to track down Jessica and Robert but at the moment our main problem is that we don't know anything. We have established from a witness that the accident did indeed take place and that the driver of the van claimed to have called the police and the ambulance from his cell phone. Unfortunately there is no trace to be found from the accident."

At this moment an agent came rushing in looking rather flustered and whispered something in Krantz's ear. The normally unflappable doctor turned a funny ashen colour and then stood up, announcing "well, ladies and gentlemen, it would appear we now have a chief suspect. Jim Henderson was accidentally released from jail last night."

A/N 2: Totally meant to post this on Tuesday, but we had our senior prom (yes, I'm a wierd British person) on Wednesday night and I got slightly side tracked. It finished at half past midnight on Thursday morning and then a post prom party went on until 7am. I got about three hours of sleep even though we got the first two periods off school.


	5. Bad Men

Disclaimer: Jess, Rob and the motorcycle belong to Meg Cabot and various publishers around the world.

Chapter five

"You!" I gasped "what ha…how did yo…why aren't you where you belong, you sick ..mmph?" I managed, before Rob managed to slap his hand across my mouth.

"What Jess means, Mr Henderson," he continued smoothly "is that we thought you were in prison and are somewhat surprised to see you."

Just then the lights, which I hadn't previously noticed, flickered on above our heads, revealing two men with guns standing either side of our old friend. Jim noticed the direction of my gaze, which was somewhat hampered by the hand Rob still hadn't removed, and said, smiling, "just so that you don't try any funny stuff, you understand. Anyway, back to Hank's comment, yes, I was in prison but not anymore. Turned out a coupl'a the guys who worked there were rather impressed by my ideas." His hand flicked up to a scar that hadn't been there before, a big ugly thing, right across his face, and he continued "as y'all can see, some of them heathens I had to share a cell with weren't so thrilled." His face twisted and he continued "and it was you that put me there."

"Us?" I said angrily, wrenching Rob's hand from my mouth, What do you mean **we** put you there? You put …"

"Oh no, girlie" he interjected "not your boyfriend. It's you that knew where I was. It was you the cops followed. And it's you who's going to pay for this, by finding a few people I need to _chat_ with"

"What do you mean I'm going to pay?" I demanded angrily, "cos if you think for one second that I'm going to help you with some sick plan, you've got another think coming."

His face, already ugly, looked even worse when twisted into sickening smirk as he advanced menacingly across the room. "You, girly, seem to be forgetting that you're locked up in **my** cellar with **my** armed guards on the door and you'll do exactly as I say if you ever want to see that family of yours, or even the sky, ever again. Clear?" And on that threat he turned on his heel to make a dramatic exit.

Well, it would have been a dramatic exit, if I hadn't chosen that moment to say sweetly "Mr. Henderson?" He turned and I took a leaf out of Seth's book. "Eat my shorts," I said before spitting – quite accurately – right in his face. That, on reflection, was possibly a mistake. Despite Rob turning me and throwing me back on to the mattress with his own body over mine, I still felt a couple of agonizing blows from Jim's steel capped boot – God knows what it must have been like for Rob – before I wormed an arm out and grabbed his ankle. Everything went down hill from that point as one of the armed thugs from the door rushed over and began raining blows on us with his feet and the butt of the rifle. As he hit my wrist I let go of Henderson's ankle but he kept on hitting and eventually, much to my relief, I felt oblivion claim me for the second time in less than a day.

A/N: Sorry that this took so long; I needed to get this in but because of Christmas and school work this kind of got put on the backburner for a while. Parts of this aren't as good as I would have liked and please forgive any really screwy bits since most of this was written under the influence of a horrible cold, huge doses of my asthma medication and a painkiller-heavy cold remedy


	6. Discoveries

Disclaimer: Jess, Rob and the motorcycle belong to Meg Cabot and various publishers around the world.

Chapter six

"Accidentally released?" echoed Agent Smith.

"I'm afraid so," replied Krantz, "and it gets worse – it seems he attracted a few supporters among the guards. Some of them have gone AWOL."

"Weapons?" asked another agent.

"I'm afraid so," said the woman who had given Krantz the message. "A couple of semi-automatic rifles and three or four handguns."

"You mean they're not sure?" asked someone else.

The woman, in the resigned way of someone who knew she was going to spend the rest of the afternoon answering questions like this, replied "unfortunately the officer in charge of weaponry is among those missing. It's not yet clear whether he was kidnapped or chose to throw his lot in with Henderson."

"Do we have any information on why he has chosen this path?" This was yet another agent, perched in the corner.

"Because he's a _psychopath_" replied one of her colleagues, before the messenger glared pointedly and said "actually, that's the million dollar question. It seems that Henderson felt that his imprisonment was Jess's fault and vowed to take revenge on her. It seems his resentment intensified after an incident with another cellmate who, shall we say _disagreed_ with Mr Henderson's ideas and slashed his face with a razor. From that point on he began to actively plot his return to kidnap Jess and punish her in some way, or possibly use her talents for his own nefarious purposes. We know this much thanks to his cell mate, who has cooperated completely with us, possibly in the hopes of it affecting his chances of parole next month."

Throughout the whole exchange the three civilians had remained silent but after the last speech Mary Wilikins clearly found it necessary to query a point. "Just Jess?" she asked, "what about Rob?"

The agent looked at her and explained gently, "Henderson is mentally unstable. For some reason he considers Rob to be innocent of all wrong doing. However, if Henderson is following his predicted modus operandi we would not be considering Rob's inclusion in the kidnapping to be an accident. Indeed, the care with which the 'accident' was staged suggests that Rob was, although the secondary target, definitely required. If anything was likely to go wrong with the plan it would be the likelihood that Rob would do his utmost to protect Jess – the simplest way of capturing her would have been a simple snatch-and-grab."

"So why take him then?" This time it was Mrs Mastriani that asked what Mary would probably have considered an impossible question given the circumstances.

The agent's mouth twisted and awkwardly said "leverage. Jess is a very stubborn young lady and if, as we suspect, he is going to use her to find people, she would be likely to refuse. So they made sure she would not. How better to persuade a teenage girl to do what you want than to threaten the boyfriend she adores?"

A/N: so there you have it: chapter 6 at last! Yes, I know it's been what, three four months since the last one, but the instant I published we got in to mock exams and then I screwed up all of them and had to work my butt off to get my grades up. I have finally had a chance to do some writing about a subject other than _Othello_ or _The Great Gatsby_ and oh boy am I relieved! Exams actually finished several weeks ago, but most of those weeks have been spent trying to dig my laptop out of the pit that is my bedroom!

A/N 2: A/N _1_ was written 6 weeks ago, just after I finished it. Unfortunately this was three days before I went away and was refusing to upload. I've just (lucky me) got back from 6 weeks holiday so … tadaa!

A/N 3: this should have been up a month ago, but I couldn't log on to 


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